Saving The Day, After My Smoking Break
by Type Unique Pen Name Here
Summary: Jerk boyfriend dead, cops covering things up, and weird crap happening, Gibb just wants to drink her problems away. But when another friend dies, Gibb realizes she has to step up and save the day, er, night. She's going to need a lot of smokes. FvJ fic.
1. Stuff Conspiracy Theories Are Made Of

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the rights to any of the following: _Nightmare on Elm Street_, _Friday the 13th_, or _Freddy vs. Jason_, nor any of said franchises' characters. They are the property of New Line/Warner Bros., Paramount, Wes Craven, Sean S. Cunningham, and whoever else. I make no profit from this fanfiction, which is purely a work of fan love (and hate). Please do not sue me.

**Author's Note: **This came about because a) I love NOES and FvJ, b) hated Lori's fake guts, and c) found Katherine Isabelle to be the only actress that was able to take a one-dimensional character and make her feel almost real and likable. I have a vague idea where I'm going with this, but it might take a while because Robert Englund's Freddy is one of those characters that terrifies me as a fanfic writer. So I don't want to rush any parts that include Freddy, and many parts will. This is going to focus a lot more on him than Jason, but Jason won't be totally ignored. Also, I haven't seen every single Friday film, so if I get anything wrong with Jason, forgive me - and hey, let me know what it is, and I'll try to fix it. :) Reviews and constructive criticsm would be awesome period. ;) *is not very subtle* Do let me know if there are any typos, spelling errors, etc., because this is un-beta'd as I don't have a beta reader and can't catch everything myself.

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Stuff Conspiracy Theories Are Made Of**

This had to be the worst day of Gibb's life. She was pretty certain there wasn't a way for any other day in her future to outdo it - and she sure as hell hadn't been through a wrose day before this one. She had - naively (and she'd thought she couldn't be naive about anything anymore) - believed the previous day to be her worst day ever solely because of the horror that had happened that night.

Trey brutally murdered - for no reason and with no suspects and incompetent police officers asking her a bunch of stupid questions she could not, for the drunken life of her, figure out the relevancy of.

Yeah, that had been pretty awful. But then she'd woken up and heard the news about Blake and his dad. Not long after meeting up with Kia they'd learned something even worse - the cops were blaming everything on Blake.

For fuck's sake, the cops in Springwood were idiots. Gibb had been saying it since she'd entered high school (and started drinking and smoking). Now they were going out of their way to prove her right. She wouldn't say anything; frankly, she didn't want to dwell on it. But she knew that there was no possible way Blake could have killed Trey. Maybe she could somehow be convinced that Trey's death had caused Blake to snap and kill his dad (who had probably aggravated Blake's state of mind anyway, so maybe he had it coming) before himself.

But stabbing Trey to death, bending the bed upward, getting rid of the weapon, and finishing in time to hang out with Lori and Kia before they could get too suspicious? Blake was ruled out at the bending the bed part. Gibb could punch harder than Blake; the boy had no real muscle, he was just blessed with a body that looked buffer than it really was.

Gibb wasn't even sure she could be convinced that Blake had killed his old man and himself. It just screamed 'convenience.' First Trey's brutal murder, then Blake and his dad with similar M.O.s? She just didn't buy it. She didn't want to buy it. She didn't want to think about it - Trey was dead. Trey was fucking dead.

And it wasn't like she'd been in love with him, or even felt genuine affection for him either. She'd been with him for the cute ass, the sex, and the beer. Still, it was Trey...Gibb had been with Trey almost as long as she'd been in high school. They had rough spots, sure. He was a controlling and borderline abusive asshole, sure. But for several years now he'd been a constant presence in her life, and another vice she just could not seem to quit.

"Fuck it, I need some air," Gibb stated to Kia and stormed out of the nurse's station. She waited until she was in the hallway before wiping her eyes. Damn it, she was sick of crying! She wasn't the crying type. Except when Noodles, her poodle mutt had died about four years ago. She'd cried even more then than she'd cried over Trey. But then Noodles had loved Gibb from the moment Gibb had been brought home from the hospital, and had been loyal and obedient and supportive.

_Not the time to think about Noodles, Gibb, get a grip! _Tears threatened to overflow. She felt too raw to think about sensitive subjects she'd normally be able to handle. Gibb was in desperate need of a distriction more than air. When Lori had shown up, particularly upset (which Gibb hadn't quite been expecting, since Lori had always hated Trey and even wished him dead on occasion, but then again it had been a gruesome murder in her parents' bedroom, that probably had more to do with it than the victim himself), Gibb had been happy to focus on Lori's emotional distress.

Better Lori's pain than her own while she was sober and could feel it too clearly.

Of course part of her had been a little resentful - 'Shit, Lori, it wasn't your boyfriend murdered,' a little voice in the back of her head had bitterly thought - but Gibb could tell that the situation had Lori really frazzled. And again, Gibb had welcomed the distraction, the chance to comfort her friend and focus on her friend's grief and effed up nightmare at the police station. It was much better talking about the dream no doubt brought on by Trey's murder than talking about Trey's actual murder.

Gibb didn't have that luxury anymore, because Lori was passed out from, well, everything, Gibb guessed. (Though Will Rollins randomly popping up was definitely the catalyst.) Gibb and Kia had talked in hushed voices about their worries for Lori, Will's reappearance, his twitchy freak of a friend, and the weird bad daydream Lori's talk had given Kia. But that conversation had eventually run dry, and Gibb was again left with her thoughts as she and Kia waited.

She couldn't take it anymore.

The sound of hushed voices echoed in the hallway, and Gibb decided to investigate. Everyone else was supposed to be in class now - so maybe something was going on, something that could take her mind off the fucking mess her mind was in.

When Gibb turned the corner she muttered, "Fuck me," under her breath and stormed towards the Coke machine. "You assholes have a lot of nerve!" she hissed and smacked both of them upside their heads the moment she was close enough. She glared at Will and his 'I'm too tense for my blood pressure' friend; she could not believe they had the gall to still be at school after the shitpile they'd created.

Both boys reflexively reached up to where they'd been smacked, the twitchy, unknown one recoiling from Gibb as if she'd burned him (glaring at her like she'd done it, too), but Will came closer. He looked concerned - wasn't he four years too late to pull this crap?

"Is Lori okay?"

Gibb crossed her arms. "Why do you care?"

Will took a step closer. His expression became even more worried and a tiny bit angry. "How can you ask me that? Of course I care! I broke out of Westin to get here and make sure Lori wasn't killed last night!" Will practically shouted into Gibb's now confused face.

His friend looked ready to do some head-smacking himself. "Would you be quiet?" The kid grabbed Will's arm and tried to pull him away. "You're gonna get us caught!"

"Wait, hold up!" Gibb whispered. Well, whispered but very loudly. "Westin? What the fuck is Westin, some kind of juvie place?" She'd never heard of anywhere called Westin, and she hadn't for once suspected that Will might have been in trouble for something and that was the real reason he'd disappeared. Of course, Gibb wasn't the only one under the impression Will had just moved away - after all, his parents had just moved away.

Generally, underage kids move with their parents.

Will opened his mouth to say something, his friend glared at her and looked ready to say something, but before either of them could make a noise the three teenagers heard footsteps coming their way.

Gibb glanced back the way she'd come in time to see Principal Shaye and two police officers round the corner. They were walking towards her and where the two boys had been standing a moment ago - but Will and his friend had made a run for it only seconds before the three men had turned down that hallway. Gibb looked over to see where the boys were running.

Something really strange was going on.

Principal Shaye walked up to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke in that tone of voice Gibb hated; the 'Let me talk down to you while pretending I'm talking to you like an equal' tone. "Which way did they go, Miss Smith? It's very important that we find them and talk to them. We don't want any trouble, but both boys are a danger to themselves and possibly anyone they come in contact with."

Gibb sighed and pointed down the hallway. "They went straight down and then turned towards the gym."

"Thank you, Gibb. Now please, why don't you go back to the nurse's station?"

Gibb rolled her eyes and walked towards the girls' bathroom instead. She wasn't sure why she'd lied about which way the boys' had run (they'd actually gone straight for the front door, not the gym), but she didn't feel right helping the cops out. Not after the bullshit they were pulling with Trey and Blake and oh, fuck, her mind was bringing back the awful image of Trey, bent backwards with the bed. Gibb splashed her face with cold water. "Just block it out, Gibb, just block it out. The only thing you should think about is the party tonight and how wasted you're going to get. And maybe all the conspiracy theories you could form off everything that's happened lately."

Yeah, that was a way better alternative.


	2. And the Plot Slightly Thickens

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the rights to any of the following: _Nightmare on Elm Street_, _Friday the 13th_, or _Freddy vs. Jason_, nor any of said franchises' characters. They are the property of New Line/Warner Bros., Paramount, Wes Craven, Sean S. Cunningham, and whoever else. I make no profit from this fanfiction, which is purely a work of fan love (and hate). Please do not sue me.

**Author's Note: **I apologize for the lameness of this chapter. And I apologize for the lack of Freddy and any real action, but I promise stuff besides "hot google action" will happen soon! (Also, I tried very, very hard to keep Freddy IC. He's tricky to write though, so constructive criticism/feedback would definitely be appreciated.)

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**Chapter 2: And the Plot (Slightly) Thickens**

_Mmm, much better. _Freddy grinned as his claws twitched against a few pipes near where he was lounging in the boiler room. As all the little whispers and rumors spread, he could feel the knowledge and fledgling fear seeping in. He wasn't the object of terror he used to be - not yet - but his name was once again being murmured among his children.

All thanks to that Lori bitch and the little Davis brat - who had been an unexpected variable in Freddy's plan. As a general rule, Freddy didn't like surprises, but the younger Davis was an exception to that rule. Hell, Davis had been a fucking blessing! A surprise that was actually working entirely in Freddy's favor. Lori on her own would have gotten his name going around; the gossip of some awful, nightmarish monster - but the buzz that Mark Davis had helped her generate was icing on the cake. Always the best part.

Freddy's ears were burning as almost all the teenagers of Springwood talked about him throughout the day. He licked his lips, clicked his claws against metal piping; he was downright giddy. He wasn't quite strong enough yet to do any lasting damage in the real world - but he would be. By tonight, he'd be able to finally get in his first kill in fucking ages. He was in such a good mood that he even let the latest 1428 bitch have a peaceful, little nap in the nurse's station.

Only because one of her two stereotype bosom buddies had fallen asleep as well. Freddy needed to broaden his fanbase, so to speak, and Lori had been such a good, obedient, little bimbo. He'd save her for later.

With the combined efforts of Jason, Lori, and Mark, Freddy was feeling pretty fuckin' good again. He looked at a copy of the invitation to a rave that was being held that night - he'd swiped it from that Kia girl's memories - and chuckled. Drunken teens partying, dancing, drinking, fucking, getting high and passing out; he would have to keep from going crazy. It was like the children offering themselves up on a buffet. He appreciated their generosity, but Freddy was going to take his time with Springwood.

Maybe he'd go ahead and off Lori (the dumb blond would soil the legacy of his house if it hadn't already been fucking ruined by that Jesse bitch). Or pull that nose trick when it would stick. Then there was the sad cliche of the drunken whore - he hadn't paid her a visit yet.

Aw, hell, all of Springwood had become possibilities. Freddy decided to wait and see how the night went. Who fell asleep first.

* * *

Kia paced around restlessly outside the nurse's office. She bit down on her lip and checked the clock again. For fuck's sake, what the hell was taking them so long with Lori?

"Hey, she awake yet?" Gibb walked over to where Kia was pacing.

"Yeah, but the nurse won't let me see her yet - she has to make sure Lori's okay first. But it's been over ten minutes, what the hell is there to check?" Kia bitched. She crossed her arms and leaned against one side of the door frame. She watched her friend take the other side. Kia noticed how Gibb seemed distant, lost in thought, and she reached over to give Gibb's arm a comforting squeeze. "Hey, how about you? You okay?"

Gibb worked up a strained smile and nodded. "Yeah. Thanks. I'm just...Kia, have you ever heard of a place called Westin?"

Kia blinked. "Westin?" She racked her brain but drew nothing except blanks. "No, doesn't sound familiar. Why?" What the heck did a place called Westin have to do with anything?

And why the hell wasn't the nurse letting them see Lori yet? The bitch could at least let them know if Lori was okay or not!

"Because I ran into Will and he said something about breaking out of a place called Westin to see if Lori was okay," Gibb explained. She may as well have dropped a bombshell of epic proportions like, "Kia, I'm pregnant and am giving up smoking and drinking so I can become a responsible mother."

Okay, maybe not that epic - but Kia tended to overreact and make things bigger than they really were. "He said what? Shit. Maybe it's a juvenile hall in whatever town he moved to?" she suggested. Honestly though, Kia was at a loss of what was going on with Will. She hadn't known him too well back when he was still in town four years ago, but she'd thought he was as head over hills for Lori as Lori was for him. Then when his family just up and left the day after Lori's mom died - talk about bad timing - and he'd never contacted Lori, Kia had pegged him for just another teenage boy who was over puppy love the second he found another pair of hot legs to chase after.

But after today, well, obviously he still cared about Lori. So what the hell had been going on with him the past four years?

Gibb snorted and nervously fidgeted where she stood across from Kia. "I'd definitely buy him meeting his friend in juvie."

Kia couldn't agree more. "What the fuck was up with that guy? I mean, besides being a complete dick he somehow knew about Lori's dream." Kia paused and remembered her own dream that had conjured up what she imagined this Krueger asshole looked like based on Lori's description of him. She shuddered and tried not to think about how freaky the dream had felt. It wasn't just a dream with the usual weirdness to it, it had felt weirder beyond the norm. Kia wasn't sure how to explain it, and she didn't want to even think about it. She sighed and started pacing again. "Seriously, what was up with that? The guy obviously needs medication, pronto."

"Got that right," Gibb easily agreed. "Kia, relax, okay? I'm sure the nurse is giving Lori some bullshit about how she's just exhausted after going through another traumatic experience in her life. Probably trying to push her into seeing the guidance counselor, you know they always do that."

"Relax? Says the girl who can't stand still for ten seconds."

"And you're stationary?"

"Least I'm not shaking."

Gibb made herself still and and leaned back against the wall. She took her cap off and ran a hand through her hair. "Honestly, I'm glad it's taking this long. I don't want to go back out and deal with everyone staring at me and whispering behind my back like I can't hear them if I can't see them."

Kia walked over and stood next to Gibb, leaning back as well. "Yeah, I know. Look, Gibb, if you need to talk - you don't have to go to the guidance counselor. You can just talk to me. And I'm sure once Lori gets some sleep she'd be happy to listen to you, too." Kia watched Gibb and took note of how puffy and bloodshot her eyes were. She noticed the way Gibb's fingers were tugging at the belt loops on her jeans, like some part of her body had to move no matter how slight. She was worried.

When Lori had lost her mom and then Will, she'd been a wreck. Kia had no clue how Gibb would handle this. Lori didn't have the issues Gibb was troubled with, and Kia was really worried that Gibb might go off the deep end at the party tonight.

But Gibb wasn't going to stay home when there was a chance to get smashed and dance the night away. She never did when Trey was alive, so why start now when she probably needed it most? Maybe it would do them all some good to pretend for a few hours that nothing bad was going on, and they were just a few teenagers having a good time.

"Thanks, Kia," Gibb whispered. She smiled, briefly, before pushing herself away from the wall. "Tell Lori I'm sorry, but I had to get out of here. Call me if something happens."

"You're ditching?"

"Yeah. I can't take it here." Gibb put her hat back on. "Can you pick me up tonight?"

Kia sighed. Just like Gibb to leave her on her own. And after Kia had tried to reach out to her friend. Whatever. "Sure. I'll pick you up around eight."

Gibb nodded and headed off. "Thanks, Kia! See ya tonight!"

"Yeah, see ya," Kia muttered under her breath and folded her arms over her chest. She glanced over at the door. "Shit, is Lori contagious or something?" she huffed. Kia was beginning to think that was the case when the door opened and Lori hurried out.

"Yes, I'll go home and get some sleep as soon as school's over, thank you!" Lori slammed the door shut and looked over where Kia was standing. "Can we get out of here?" she asked. She looked wearier than before her fainting spell.

Kia quickly nodded and walked off with Lori. "Hell yes!"

* * *

For once, Gibb was thankful that her parents were never around. She didn't want to deal with her mother's hovering or her father's bullying - sometimes that was worse than the neglect. Right now was one of those times. Plus, she knew they'd flip out on her for skipping school. Taking a time out to grieve over a dead boyfriend? Gibb had already heard her mother's "The best way to deal with grief is to distract yourself from it, and what better way than school" speech. She'd wanted to gag.

The back door was unlocked like always, and Gibb made a beeline for her room. She locked the door once she was in, just in case on of her parents got back before the usual time Gibb got home from school. Then she went over to her desk and powered up her computer. Gibb was going to do a little investigating.

This Westin place had her curious. The police cover-up had her suspicious. And in Gibb's mind, trying to solve a mystery was a way better distraction than fucking high school. Westin would have to come first. It was the easiest one to solve, while a small town cover up by the local authorities was going to take some time and a lot more effort. Better to get the easy one done first.

After the five minutes it took her computer to turn on and load her desktop, Gibb brought up her web browser and typed 'Westin' into the search bar. She went through a few pages of travel-related results (she highly doubted Will broke out of some luxury resort) and started rethinking her "easy" assumption. It would have been easier if she had a location for this Westin place. Gibb thought for a moment, then typed in 'Westin, Springwood' and hit enter.

"Bingo," Gibb whispered to herself as she clicked on the third link from the top: **Westin Hills Psychiatric Hospital.** As she looked over the information about the asylum, she realized two things. One, Will had never really moved away, and two, solving the mystery of what and where Westin was didn't really solve jack shit.

Gibb leaned back in her chair and stared at the sunny picture of a building that looked more like a prison (maybe the juvie theory wasn't so far off). "Well, fuck me," she grumbled and reached over to grab her pack of cigarettes. She really needed a smoke right now.


	3. Some Pointless Partying

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the rights to any of the following: _Nightmare on Elm Street_, _Friday the 13th_, or _Freddy vs. Jason_, nor any of said franchises' characters. They are the property of New Line/Warner Bros., Paramount, Wes Craven, Sean S. Cunningham, and whoever else. I make no profit from this fanfiction, which is purely a work of fan love (and hate). Please do not sue me.

**Author's Note: **This chapter was stubborn - I had to write Will and Lori and it wasn't fun. I kind of made their POV scenes a little melodramatic, but that's how I saw those two. Some things are brushed over because they go down almost the same as in the movie, and Freddy and Jason only make brief appearances. But next chapter will be a big one for those two (at least the first one). Thanks to those who have reviewed - reviews make my day! :)

* * *

**Chapter 3: Some Pointless Partying**

"I told you I didn't want her going to that house! Are you deaf now, or just fucking stupid? Do you want our little girl dead?"

Gibb grabbed her pack of smokes and stuff it in her pocket with her lighter. For once she was paying attention as her father yelled at her mother.

"And I told you she'd ask questions! Now keep your voice down, damn it!"

Gibb blinked. Ask questions about what? What was the deal with Lori's house? She stood near her door as she braided her hair into pigtails. Her mind was already full of suspicion, this latest argument between her parents was only adding to it.

"What's the point anymore? That house is bad news, everyone knows it! After all the shit that's happened there, and now this - she could have been the one killed!"

What the hell was her dad talking about? Gibb grabbed a couple of thin, hair bands and secured her pigtails. Had something happened at Lori's house before? Maybe when it wasn't Lori's? Gibb remembered it was only a couple of years before Lori's mom died in an accident that Lori's family moved from a house closer to Gibb's to 1428 Elm, which had been on the market for like, ever.

"Would you keep your fucking voice down!"

"No, Mom, let him keep yelling," Gibb whispered after barely making out her mother's angry hiss. She slipped her sneakers on and reached for her hat while trying to keep an ear pressed to her door.

"Why? You know she's probably passed out drunk - that kid was her boyfriend, for fuck's sake so now she has a legitimate reason to sneak in a few dozen beers until she's unconscious next to the toilet!"

Tears burned Gibb's eyes. She furiously wiped them away and squeezed her eyes tightly until her head hurt and the urge to cry was gone. "Fuck you too, Dad," she muttered and put on her baseball cap. There was an unopened beer can on her desk, one she'd planned to drink during the ride to the cornfield where the party was being held. She ignored it when she saw Kia and Lori pull up to the curb outside her house.

_Plenty of beers to drink at the rave._

Gibb grabbed her jacket, crawled out her window, and carefully lowered herself down from the ledge of the garage roof.

By the time her parents noticed the vehicle waiting for Gibb, she was getting in and buckling up.

Lori turned and must have noticed how red Gibb's eyes still were. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

Gibb met Lori's gaze and wondered if she should tell Lori what Will had said and what Gibb had later discovered via that wonderful thing known as the internet. She opted to wait; Will would undoubtedly try to contact Lori again, and it wasn't exactly Gibb's place. But if Will Rollins didn't show up at the rave tonight, or left out certain details about the past four years, Gibb would tell Lori everything she knew as well as everything she'd theorized.

"I have never been more up for anything in my life," Gibb stated emphatically. "I just want to party and forget for a little while."

Lori smiled sympathetically and nodded. Kia let out a holler in agreement, and the three of them were on their way.

Gibb lit up a cigarette for the ride, and told herself she was doing the right thing to give Will the chance to explain things to Lori. She didn't bother trying to convince herself her motivations were entirely unselfish. That it wasn't mostly because she didn't want to talk and talk and talk about conjecture and theories and stuff that might make her think about her parents' latest fight or about Trey.

Because that was the main reason she kept her mouth shut, took a drag from her cigarette, and swayed to music throughout the ride. Oh, yeah, she was definitely up for this party.

* * *

Trying to find a specific blond-haired, blue-eyed, teenager girl in a crowd of dozens and dozens of teenagers was not an easy task. Will kept looking, trying to spot Lori among all the other kids dancing away. He'd seen so many girls with blond hair and of a similar length to Lori's that he felt kind of dizzy. The glow sticks weren't helping. Will finally gave up trying to spot Lori and instead began looking for someone whose hair would stick out - Kia. Will knew that wherever Kia was, Lori had to be close by.

Sure enough, as soon as Will spotted Kia (the black hair with the bright red streaks did prove much easier to pick out) his eyes followed the path she was taking and saw Lori. Simultaneously Will's gut clenched and his heart skipped a beat. He was so happy to see her - but he was terrified of how she'd react when he told her what she desperately needed to know.

There was another boy over near Lori, talking to her. Will started making his way through the crowd and tried to get a look at the kid; did he know that boy? Was this a stranger to him? Was he...close to Lori?

Kia reached the two and while it was impossible for Will to make out what they were saying from this distance (and with the blaring music), he could tell that Kia and this other guy weren't on good terms. After a moment the other kid walked off, and Will briefly saw the guy's face: Charlie Linderman! Will did recognize the kid, and felt kind of dense that he hadn't already. Charlie hadn't changed one bit from middle school.

Will made his way through the crowd, not even acknowledging anything else. All he could think about was Lori. He had to get to her and tell her everything. Finally getting through the sea of drunken teenagers, Will stood there and stared at Lori as her gaze met his. His heart skipped a beat again; it was like magic, staring into her eyes again. He remained frozen for several moments, gawking at her like the lovesick fourteen year old he'd been the last time they'd been around each other (the incident at school excluded).

Lori returned the gaze, surprise written clearly all over her face. She didn't even glance at Kia as her friend spoke before slipping off towards Charlie Linderman. It was Lori that made the first move. She ran over to where Will was standing and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

It felt so good to hold her again! Will closed his eyes and hugged her back. He savored it for a moment; the truth could wait a few extra minutes, right? He held her and thanked his lucky stars that she was safe and alive and still cared about him.

"Oh, Will!" Lori pulled back just enough so that she could look up at him. "Where have you been, Will? Kia said you told Gibb you were at a place called Westin, I don't understand - I thought you moved."

Of course. "They never even mailed them," Will muttered out loud. He ran a hand through his hair and took a step back. He'd figured this was the case, especially after the brief encounter with Gibb at school. He had written Lori so many letters, and he'd convinced himself that they were getting to her even though he never got any back. He told himself that the staff at Westin wouldn't let him have her letters, or maybe her father threw his out when they got there. But he knew how anal Westin Hills was about outside contact; they wouldn't have let his letters anywhere near the mailbox.

Lori blinked at Will, confused. "Never sent what? Will, what is going on?"

"My letters. The staff at Westin Hills never sent my letters." Will took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. He hated having to explain this, but, "Westin Hills is a psychiatric hospital, Lori. I've been in an institute for the past four years."

"What?" Lori's mouth fell open in shock and she blinked several times. Her head began to shake slightly, either in denial or confusion. "I don't understand. Your parents, they moved. They even talked to my dad about it."

Will snorted. "I bet they did," he spat out bitterly. "If my parents moved, it was because of the shame. I haven't seen them in four years either, Lori. Mark and I, we've been kept in Westin Hills, away from the outside world. I wrote you letters, but they must not have sent any of them. Your dad probably made sure of it." Will's hands balled into fists at the thought of Lori's dad, of all the things the bastard could have done to Lori but mercifully hadn't.

His last comment wasn't lost on Lori. "What does my dad have to do with anything?"

"He had me locked up!" Will snapped before he could stop himself. He quickly regained his cool. "I'm sorry. Look, Lori, we really need to talk somewhere private."

But Lori shook her head even more, sputtering. "Will, my dad's just a general practitioner, he has nothing to do with a psychiatric hospital!"

Will's jaw clenched and he pulled his fists from his pockets, hands running through his hair as he tried not to get angry. He didn't want it to go down this way. He had hoped so badly that Lori would let him talk before trying to defend her father - but it was her father they were talking about. Will was certain the man had come up with some tragic cover-up for Mrs. Campbell's death that had turned Lori into even more of a Daddy's Girl than she'd been at fourteen.

"I know this is a lot to take in, but you have got to believe me, Lori, when I tell you that your father has a lot more influence than you realize. He's dangerous. He isn't who you think he is. He has everything to do with Westin Hills, with me being there, with my letters never getting to you - he had to make sure you and the rest of fucking Springwood didn't find out the truth!"

"The truth about what, Will? What are you talking about?" Lori practically shouted back. Her eyes were glassy and her lip trembling. She was on the verge of a breakdown again, and Will felt like a royal jerk.

But this was his opening. He had to tell her. Even if it was in front of everybody. Even if she freaked - let her. He had to let her freak out, because she wasn't listen or give him a chance until after she freaked. So Will took a deep breath and stated, "The truth about your mother. That your father killed her."

* * *

Mark really, really didn't want to be here. He was not big on parties and crowds and strangers and drinking and drugs (or anything that could potentially make him pass out). He was not big on staying in Springwood any longer than necessary - and this felt much longer than necessary.

But Will was his only friend, and he'd been a good friend. Will apparently needed to see Lori and talk to her again so he could break the news that, "Hey, by the way, I've been locked in the looney bin because I think your daddy killed your mommy." He'd been adamant that he get the chance to really talk to the girl. Then they could go. He'd promised. And if Will wasn't back at the van by midnight (currently it was almost ten), Mark was getting the hell out of there on his own. Will had been given fair warning.

So now Mark just had to figure out what to do with himself for the next couple of hours. Because partying was not an option.

"Fuck, I hope this keeps them awake instead of making them pass out," he muttered under his breath as he sat in the driver's seat of Bobby's pride and joy. He watched the glow stick orgy in front of him and once more silently cursed himself out.

What if his theory was right? If so, that meant Will's point was right, which meant Mark might have royally fucked himself and every other kid in Springwood, Ohio over. Which meant that Frederic Charles Krueger might be getting a gourmet buffet of teenagers soon.

If only Mark could remember his dreams again. He kept thinking back to another thing Will had pointed out; why wasn't Mark dead yet himself? Why hadn't Krueger finished him off? It wasn't only that he couldn't remember having Krueger nightmares, he didn't remember having any dreams for the past few years. Mark blinked and wanted to smack himself in the face - of course!

It was a little outlandish, sure. It was possibly borderline paranoid, definitely more than a tiny bit crazy, but it made a lot of fucking sense. The staff at Westin Hills never let them sleep without that Hypnocil pill. It was more important than anything else, they were just fucking anal about people taking that pill at night. And Mark hadn't remembered having a single dream since he'd been locked up in Westin.

Right now, he kind of wished he'd stolen a few bottles of that stuff. Because if his theory was right, he really, truly was indeed fucked.

Mark grabbed the key to the van and got out. He had to find Will, and fast.

* * *

Oh, yeah, this was what Gibb had needed. Some techno beats that she would never dig while sober, unlimited free refills of beer, and cigarettes. A bunch of other teens bumping and grinding and having a good time. She felt better already. She rocked her body to the rhythm of the music with abandon, taking large swigs from her plastic cup, and taking deep drags from her latest cigarette. She was partying harder than ever; and it was fucking helping.

Or, at least, she kept telling herself it was. But the harsh truth was, she was miserable. She was alone; Trey was dead, and her friends were on the fringes of the rave so they wouldn't get sucked into the lowest level of debauchery. Unlike her. She'd do this any given day if she had the chance. What the fuck did that say about her? She was addicted to nicotine and though she didn't think she was really an alcoholic yet, she was well on her way to becoming one before she was of legal drinking age.

Fuck she was a screw-up.

Gibb took another swig from her beer and went to get a refill. _I am _not _getting all health-conscious and morally superior tonight. Nuh-uh. I am going to party and have a good fucking time, damn it! _Gibb made her way towards the beer line where some random pricks, a slut, and Freeburg were talking about something. She came within ear shot just in time to hear Freeburg talking about Trey's...about the incident as if it was some great moment in a stupid horror movie. Tears welled up, and the alcohol in her system made her furious instead of merely grief-stricken or sick.

Freeburg must have felt her anger, because he suddenly realized she was standing right there. He had the decency to look down and apologize, but Gibb wasn't hearing it.

"You fucker!" she shouted and threw her almost empty cup at him. "It wasn't awesome, Freeburg! It wasn't cool shit or sweet or anything like that! It was awful - it was the worst, fucking thing you could ever see! This is real life, you asshole! So why don't you go home and OD so your mom can find you!" Gibb shrieked and stormed off. She wasn't exactly sure what she'd said or if it made sense, but she felt better.

Tomorrow that might be a different story. Gibb did sometimes say things while drunk that she really regretted once sober (so then she'd quickly get drunk again to forget). But tomorrow didn't matter at that point. Getting away from all the staring faces was what mattered. Gibb stomped off into the dense maze of the cornfield, not really caring where she was going or how lost she got.

* * *

Lori ran as fast as she could through the corn - which wasn't all that fast, but it was fast enough. Tears stung her eyes and the leaves from the corn stalks slapped at her face. She didn't really care. She just had to get away, find someplace quiet and peaceful and safe. Why did all of these awful things keep happening to her? It was too much; she was so tired. She couldn't handle all of this right now, she couldn't deal with Will right now - or Kia or anyone else for that matter.

So she ran. She could hear Will in the distance. He was calling after her and trying to follow, but it was easy to lose someone in a cornfield. Lori didn't stop or look back. Maybe she was being unfair, but at that moment she didn't really give a damn. She needed some privacy, a few minutes to come to terms with the latest pile of shit being dumped at her feet.

The rave music was growing fainter. It was almost impossible to hear the noises of the party, and Will's voice wasn't as loud as it had been a few seconds ago. Lori was lost, and she knew it. She sighed in frustration; she really should have thought this through more. She'd wanted this at first, but how would she find her way back? She turned in circles and realized she had no clue which way she'd come from.

Will called her name. It sounded as though he was a good ways off to her right.

If she was going to get back to the party and back to Kia, she'd have to find Will first. But she'd be damned if she listened to him anymore tonight. Maybe in the morning she'd realize that this was Will, and despite how awful the things he said were, he must have believed them. Maybe then she'd give him a chance to explain, and try to find a rational explanation for what he thought he saw. But not tonight.

Lori began moving in the direction his calls were coming from and answered back. "I'm over here!" she yelled. She thought she heard him shout something back, but the sound of rusted metal squeaking made her flesh crawl and grabbed her attention. She whirled towards the sound. Her left foot stepped backwards, then her right, and then her left again. Her heel went down on wet, mushy ground and made a soft 'squish' noise. Lori turned and looked down. Her mouth dropped in horror and she instinctively backpedalled away from the horrible sight of a farmer's mutilated corpse. In her hurry she tripped over the handle of a discarded pitchfork and toppled backwards. Her skull hit where metal and wood met, and Lori cried out in pain.

* * *

A hulking figure turned towards the sound of a girl crying out breathlessly. Rotted fingers tightened - one set around the handle of a machete and the other around rusted metal that the figure would find a use for very soon. Slowly and with purpose the figure stalked back into the denseness of the cornfield with only one agenda on his mind: kill.

* * *

In the nightmare realm illusion of his boiler room, Freddy's lips curved into a sadistic grin as he felt one of his children slipping into his world. The four blades on his right hand clinked against a pipe and he laughed. It was time to play again - at last!


	4. There's Been a Change of Plans

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the rights to any of the following: _Nightmare on Elm Street_, _Friday the 13th_, or _Freddy vs. Jason_, nor any of said franchises' characters. They are the property of New Line/Warner Bros., Paramount, Wes Craven, Sean S. Cunningham, and whoever else. I make no profit from this fanfiction, which is purely a work of fan love (and hate). Please do not sue me. Also, there is a line in here concerning Nancy Thompson that is not mine, it was thought of by **Zaerith-Chan** who was nice enough to let me use it; thanks **Zaerith-Chan**!

**Author's Note: **I actually didn't intend for this chapter to be quite so long - but it just kept going and going, it turned into the Energizer Bunny. It was fun to write though! Maybe a little overboard on the character bashing of a certain blond...nah. :) A HUGE thanks to those who have reviewed! You guys help keep me excited about writing this. :D

**WARNING:** I'm doing a blanket warning for the rest of the story - there will be a lot of pretty foul language in this story. Mostly during Gibb or Freddy POVs. Freddy POVs may contain a little to a lot of incredibly sexist, anti-homosexual, just plain ol' foul slurs and obscenities. The violence starts in this chapter as well, and I don't intend to hold back. So be prepared for smoe rough stuff, kiddos.

* * *

**Chapter 4: There's Been a Change of Plans**

"I don't get it."

Kia rolled her eyes. There was a surprise. "Don't get what, Linderman?"

"I just let out almost a year's worth of pent up frustration in the form of the longest, biggest insulting tyrade I could think of while nervous and embarrassed, and now you want to dance with me?" Poor Linderman looked so perplexed. But hopeful. He was really like a dog. Maybe not a frou-frou dog, but a pitiful, lovesick puppy desperate for affection somewhere.

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for guys who can give it back to me. And it was kind of cute seeing you stand up for yourself."

Linderman smiled bashfully, and even in the dark Kia could tell he was blushing. But the geek kept dancing (sort of) with her, having a good time, and she figured it could count as her good deed for the week. Plus, it _had_ been kind cute when he stood up for himself. "Okay. And, Kia?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for going off on you."

Kia laughed and gave Linderman's shoulder a very gentle, playful punch. "Don't go all submissive on me again, Linderman. You're right. I'm a bitch, and I dish it out on people without a second thought. So no apologizing, just shut up and dance, 'kay?"

Linderman grinned and nodded.

Truth was though, Kia didn't quite get it either. But she was kind of starting to like the dweeb.

* * *

"Lori!"

Wincing when someone shouted her name, Lori blinked and tried to refocus her vision. She instinctively reached a hand up to feel at the back of her skull where she felt a fierce, throbbing pain. She prayed her fall hadn't injured her too badly; the last thing her father needed was a call that she was in the hospital with a fracture skull and alcohol in her system.

"Oh, shit, Lori - are you okay?" Will was the one who was shouting. He was kneeling by her side now, gently sliding his hands under her to cradle her form. "Lori?" he repeated, pitifully, when she didn't answer right away.

"I'm okay," she managed to whisper. Her fingers searched but didn't feel any blood, and she could see clearly now. The pain was started to ebb a little, so Lori took that as an indication she didn't have a concussion or anything serious. Nothing a little aspirin couldn't take care of. She fixed her gaze on Will's face as relief washed over him though he still looked concern. For a moment she felt butterflies going crazy in her stomach as her love for Will swelled at the sight of his caring. But then she remembered the awful things he had said, and her disposition quickly soured.

Will must have noticed, because he helped her up before quickly letting her go. "Lori, please. Listen to me. I know what I'm saying is horrible and crazy and impossible to believe, but -"

"But nothing, Will! You're telling me my own father killed my mother when she died in a car crash! Nothing more, so just, stop! Why did you have to ruin such a wonderful moment for us, why? Maybe there was a reason you were in Westin Hills," she snapped. Immediately she regretted those words, but she was too angry to take them back.

As if she was burning hot, Will withdrew from her several steps. His eyes were hurt. "Lori...you don't get it. I'm not saying your father killed your mom."

Lori blinked. She stared at Will incredulously. "Will, you just said five minutes ago, 'Lori, I saw your dad kill your mom!' What else could you be saying?"

Will shook his head and took one step towards her. "I said, I thought I saw your dad kill your mom. But with everything going on, I now realize I was wrong. Your dad did cover up your mom's real cause of death. He hid it from you." Will reached over and tentatively laid his hands on Lori's shoulders as she stared up at him with questioning eyes. "Don't you see? Freddy Krueger killed your mom."

Utter shock rendered Lori speechless. Her mouth hung open, and her shining, wet eyes were wide. Her mind went blank for a moment as her blood ran cold. Shock was soon replaced by disbelief and incredulity which were then replaced by fear so great Lori was literally aching. "...what?" Lori simply could not wrap her mind around what Will had said. Even though it was sinking in, and terror rose instinctively, Lori's mind was slowly wholly take this bombshell in. She shook her head and yanked herself from Will's grasp. "No. Will...how is that...how could you know that?"

"Because I was there," Will stated simply. His arms fell to his sides and he stood up straighter. For some reason he was smiling. "I had a front row seat to the butchering."

Lori's hand flew to her mouth. "Will! How could you say something like that?"

Will's expression didn't become contrite or apologetic as Lori expected him too. Instead he grinned from ear to ear. He even started to _laugh_. Within seconds he was all but cackling as Lori gaped at him. "Oh, come on, lighten up, Lori. It was just your mom. Mothers are nothing more than pains in the ass, life's better with them outta the picture," Will stated. But as he talked, his voice became less and less Will. It grew deeper, gravelly; inhuman.

Horror gripped Lori. Her hand reached around to the back of her skull. Pitifully, she whimpered, "How hard did I hit my head?"

In the time it took for Lori's eyes to close as she blinked back tears, Will's visage became that of Fred Krueger. He was leering at Lori when her eyes opened, the putrid smell of his hot breath hitting her face overwhelming her. "Pretty fuckin' hard, bitch!"

Lori screamed, turned, and ran.

* * *

Gibb turned around in circles. "Fuck!" she shouted. Her original carefree attitude about getting lost was gone as her emotions calmed down. Despite all the beer she'd had so far, Gibb wasn't completely drunk, and her brain could still function rationally. And rational thinking told her she could be lost in the cornfield for hours. It was dense and dark and who knew when Lori and Kia would be ready to leave. They wouldn't come looking for her before then.

_Some friends they are_, Gibb sulked. She'd feel guilty for thinking that when she was fully sober. But it was kind of true. They'd just let her go off on her own, and Lori was so wrapped up in her perfect sweetheart being back and some stupid nightmare and who the fuck knew what Kia was doing, but they couldn't be bothered to really be there for Gibb, could they? No, they just let her go off and do her own thing. Maybe they thought that was what she wanted, but fuck, why couldn't someone for once try to snap her out of this funk she'd put herself into. Gibb knew it was her own fault, but she was weak-willed and everyone just let her be. Lori and Kia seemed to figure there was nothing they could do except occasionally scold her or tell her that her actions where unhealthy. And now when she needed them most of all to make her stop and just, take everything in, they were partying like nothing happened while Gibb partied to forget anything did.

Well, now she was just trying to find her way back to the party so that she could go wait in Kia's Jeep because her party mood was soured. After overhearing Freeburg, Gibb knew partying wasn't going to really help. Getting drunk wasn't going to help her. She'd wake up feeling worse (while kneeling by a toilet).

"Shit, way to go, Gibb." Pulling out her lighter and a pack of cigarettes from her jean pocket, Gibb tried to focus on the faint sound of rave music mingled with muffled sounds of a crowd. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag. "Okay, calm down and think. Turn around, because that's where you came from and eventually you have to reach where you first started, right? Right. Fuck, I hope so."

Gibb started trudging in the direction she had been walking away from. The cigarette was soothing her nerves and helping her think a little clearer. That was why she'd started smoking in the first place. While getting drunk put her in a pleasant fog (while she was drunk), smoking calmed her down without numbing her and actually helped her think more wasn't sure if that was really the nicotine or if it was just a psychological thing. She really didn't care. She just wanted to go home (hopefully her parents were in bed).

Somewhere in the distance she heard a male voice shout Lori's name. The voice sounded a lot like Will's, and he sounded freaked or upset.

Fear spread through Gibb who took a quick drag to try to hold back the panic. She started moving as fast as she could through the corn to find Will and her friend. _I take back every thing I said about Lori being selfish, please don't let something have happened to her_. Gibb felt guilty about what she'd been thinking earlier, and she planned to apologize to Lori (even though Lori would be clueless) the moment she found her friend. So Lori had to be okay, because Gibb had to have her chance to say she was sorry.

Gibb thought about the fact that she'd found out Will was in a mental hospital for four years. Will had been locked up in the looney bin for four years - why? She was starting to get a really bad feeling about this situation. It didn't help that she didn't know if his twitchy friend was with him - because Twitchy looked even crazier than Will. Granted Will didn't look crazy, but that wasn't the point.

Completely focused on locating her friend and her potentially psycho boyfriend that Gibb didn't notice someone moving through the cornfield until he ran into her. She might not have noticed anyway, since it was so hard to see anything out there with how dark it was. But one minute she was trying to run towards the sound of Will shouting, the next she was falling over as someone stumbled into her. The air in her lungs whooshed out as she hit the ground with whoever had collided into her landing on top. Gibb barely managed to keep up the hand holding the cigarette - this party did not need an out of control bonfire.

"Sorry, I didn't see you," a voice stated - though it came out in a rather rude, annoyed tone for an apology. The guy on top of her pulled himself off of her, and Gibb saw it was none other than Twitchy. What a coincidence. He blinked and stared at her. "You're that Lori girl's friend."

"Yeah, and you're Will's fellow inmate," Gibb muttered. She rose to her feet and dusted herself off, watching him warily.

Twitchy glared at her. He didn't look quite as jumpy as he'd been at the school, but he still had that same, intense look in his eyes. Yeah, she'd buy him as a crazy guy. "I don't have time for this." He turned and started walking towards Will's shouting, which had stopped for a few minutes. "I've got to find Will and get out of here, and if you want to survive, you should get out of here and get some caffeine in your system instead of alcohol."

Gibb blinked. "What the fuck are you going on about?" She followed the guy, stepping quickly so she was more beside him than behind him.

In the distance they both heard Will shout Lori's name again.

"If he's hurting my friend, I'm kicking both of your asses!" Gibb snapped at Twitchy. She was getting really, really worried.

Twitchy snapped right back, "Your friend's safety is the entire reason we're here, so fuck off! Will probably told her what he got locked up for, and she's probably freaking out, that's it! But it's going to get a lot worse if any of us fall asleep!" He turned and continued stomping in the direction the shouting had come from.

"Wait, wait, are you talking about that Freddy Krueger guy you and Lori somehow both dreamed about?" Gibb questioned, following. She took a drag from her cigarette. She needed clarity more than ever with this psycho. Before he could answer her she then added, "And what did get Will locked up? Why would it freak Lori out besides the obvious, 'I'm psychotic and a danger to society so they shacked me up in the wacko basket'? That sounds freak out worthy to me!"

"SHUT UP!" Twitchy yelled, turning to face her with his intense eyes almost bulging out from his skull. In the faint light it was still easy to tell he was getting red-faced, and his twitchiness was back in full force. "You don't know anything, so just shut up! Will's my friend. He's my only friend, and as worried about your friend as you are, that's how worried I am about Will. Maybe more. But to answer your questions, yes, Freddy Krueger is real and if we fall asleep, he can kill us. And Will was locked up because he saw Lori's father kill her mother."

Gibb's mouth fell open. She stood there in numb silence for a moment. That couldn't be true...could it? The part about Lori's parents. She didn't really believe that Freddy Krueger business. Gibb decided that none of that mattered at the moment. What mattered was finding Lori and Will and then everyone could have a nice, big pow-wow. So Gibb stopped pushing the guy - he was an escapee from a mental hospital, and he looked ready to snap - and simply walked with him.

But once they were out of that damn cornfield, she was staying the hell away from the guy.

* * *

Ah, yes, that was the good stuff. The running, the screaming - the outright _terror_. Like getting a hit of your favorite drug after years of forced sobriety. Only better; way better.

That obnoxious, doe-eyed face glanced back to see if he was coming after her, and she let out another banshee's cry as she raced into the silo.

Freddy chuckled. He loved it when a plan came together. He loved dealing with predictable bitches. The dream was going exactly as planned; bitch freaks, bitch runs exactly where he wants her, and bitch gets the shock of her life when she finds herself trapped in her own home. His fuckin' home, and that little slut didn't deserve to walk those damn halls. None of 'em had.

Except maybe that first little Elm Street bitch that had defeated him. Fuck, what he wouldn't give for a sassy cunt like her again.

Inside the silo, Lori turned to take in her surroundings. She'd never been in a silo before but maybe there was another way out. But when she turned around she found she wasn't inside the silo - she was in her house! She looked back towards the doorway she'd come in through, but it was just wall! Lori screamed and circled around. Somehow, she was in her own home - but at least she knew places to hide and how to get out! Lori started walking towards the stairway. The hardwood creaked under her bare feet.

Wait, bare feet?

Lori looked down to see what had happened to her shoes. But it wasn't just her shoes that were missing - it was the rest of her clothes! That bastard had put her into a thin, white nightgown! Lori shrieked and started running for the stairs. Her mind instinctively thought of finding her father, but then she remembered that this was all a dream. It was nothing but a dream - so she wasn't in any real danger, right? Lori stopped herself before she reached the stairs and closed her eyes. Whenever she became aware that she was dreaming, she had always been able to make her dreams go however she wanted them too. That was always the trick, right? You just had to become aware you were dreaming, and then you could control them.

Krueger snickered. It was always so amusing when they thought they could beat him at his own game. Oh, but he had some surprises in store for little Lori. He waited, setting the stage for his grand entrance in this particular playground.

When Lori's eyes opened, she wasn't in the peaceful, sunny meadow she'd envisioned. It wasn't daytime, and she wasn't outside - everything was still the same. Lori whimpered and started for the stairs again. What was going on? Why couldn't she make it turn out how she wanted? Lori heard the loud stomping of her father rushing up the stairs and relief washed over her - for a moment she forget this was a dream, and became Daddy's Little Girl, certain he could protect her. But her smile died before it could even form as her father reached the top and turned t walk down the hallway towards her. Her eyes zeroed in on the large kitchen knife in his hands. Lori screamed. "Daddy, no!"

Dr. Campbell didn't listen. He didn't even seem to be looking at her. He brushed past her in a hurry towards the closed door to his bedroom where muffled whimpering could be heard.

Lori felt sick. Lip quivering, hands shaking, she took tentative steps towards her parents' bedroom after her dad burst through the door. As she neared the room she could see in, see her mother lying on the bed. Lori heard her mother crying pitifully, and Will's words came back to her as her father raised the knife. But then Lori remembered what Will - no, what Freddy had said only minutes ago, and her father pulled back the bed sheet to reveal her mother struggling against some unseen force. Lori screamed at the sight of dozens of bloody cuts all over her mom's body while her father swiped helplessly at the air.

"Show yourself, you bastard!" Lori's father screamed as more cuts appeared on her mother's body. He continued to swipe and stab at the air right above her mom, but nothing seemed to stop the assault. Dr. Campbell moved closer, obscuring Lori's vision of her mother. Abruptly he was sent flying back into the corner of the bedroom, and looming over her mother was Freddy Krueger!

"No!" Lori shrieked and backed away from the nightmare monster.

"I've always had a thing for the whores in this house," Krueger sneered before plunging all four of his glove's razors into her mother's stomach. He twisted and wiggled them as thick, crimson liquid stained her mom's nightgown. There was a wet, slopping noise that made Lori feel sick, and then he pulled the blades out of her mother. He rose to his full height and faced Lori with a twisted, predatory grin. "Your turn."

Lori screamed and ran from the room.

Freddy cackled as the bitch ran from him. He sauntered out after her, finding her turning around in circles as she found herself no longer in _his _fuckin' house, but his favorite playground. It did him good to see some vapid cunt running through the corridors of his boiler room in her flimsy nightgown. It was the little things, always the little things you had to enjoy. He drummed the tips of his blades against the railing of the walkway as he stalked after her. He licked his lips when she screamed.

Where was she? Lori ran down a set of stairs and searched in vain for an exit, a door to another room, a place to hide - hell, she'd be happy just to find a loose pipe she could use to defend herself! But there was nothing anywhere. She heard the awful sound of metal scraping against metal; it made her skin crawl and her teeth ache. She whimpered and turned down another corridor. She noticed some stairs leading to another level in the hot, humid labyrinth of pipes and machines that she was lost within. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, her breaths were heavy pants. Hysteria creeping in, Lori raced up the stairs.

There was a long, loud screech of metal on metal that came from below. Footsteps that seemed to thunder were following her up the stairs.

"Leave me alone! Someone, wake me up, please! Will, please!"

The sick fucker laughed maniacally from somewhere behind her. He was near, she could tell, but there was no sign of him when she whirled around. He was drumming the blades against a surface, she heard it but still could not see it. "Aww, what's the matter, piglet? Scared?"

Desperate, pleading, Lori whimpered out, "Yes!"

A chuckle. He was still nowhere in sight. "You have nothing to worry about," his wretched, gravelly voice purred. He didn't sound comforting at all. "The only thing to fear, is fear...himself!"

Lori screamed as a hand grabbed her from behind and threw her onto the ground. She hit the metal flooring hard; pain flared much like it had after the fall that had landed her in this awful nightmare. Lori rolled onto her back and stared up with wide, fearful eyes as Krueger strode towards her. "Please! Will, please!"

Freddy came to a stop and loomed over to the little piggy as she made soft, pathetic squeals, pleading for her life. He crouched down next to her and smiled, showing off grimy, rotted teeth. "Your eyes so no, no. But my mouth says yes, yes," Krueger leered and wagged his tongue at her. He cackled when she clenched her eyes shut and let out another scream.

He had to admit, he was glad she would be the first to go. As much as he was enjoyin' this, it was impossible to deny the fact that the bimbo really was pathetic. And the bitch fuckin' lived in Nancy's house - in _his_ house! Shit, she slept in what used to be his daughter's room! It was insulting, really. If he wasn't having such a grand time playin with her, he might have been insulted. Aw, hell, it wasn't the first pathetic cunt to reside in his old home - least this one wasn't fuckin' queer.

Why couldn't she just wake up? Why couldn't Will wake her up and save her from this awful nightmare? Lori realized that if she wasn't awoken soon, she would never get a chance to tell Will she was sorry and explain the truth to him! He would go on believing she thought he was crazy, and blaming her father for a crime he didn't commit. Lori struggled against the invisible hold Freddy had over her; she had to wake up! She had to wake up and find a way to beat this monster!

Abruptly she felt an intense, sharp pain slice through her as Krueger sliced her skin with his blades. Bile rose in her throat when it hit Lori that he was doing to her what he had done to her mother; he was cutting her up everywhere. Lori squirmed and whimpered; she felt violated as he leaned in close and trailed bloody claws over her barely concealed breasts and began leaving short but deep gashes over her cleavage. Her stomach knotted up as a new fear overhwelmed her; what if this monster tried to rape her? Was she doomed not just to die but to have her one and only sexual experience be a rape at the hands of her mother's murdurer, the monster that would murder her as well?

There was a vicious, gleeful look in Krueger's eyes as he knicked and cut over her body. He was grinning, breathing heavily; he half sounded aroused, and that did nothing to assauge her new terror. Almost as though he sensed this new fear of hers, Krueger's expression became less excited and more cruel. He hovered his face over hers while gliding the gloved hand down her body. Hysteria was all but choking her when he whispered, "I should warn you, _Princess_, the first time tends to get a little...messy."

Lori half screamed, half sobbed and cried out for Will, for Kia, for Gibb - for someone, _anyone_ to waker her up! It couldn't end like this!

Freddy cackled. Oh, it could end like this all fuckin' right. His blades found their target and he dug the razor sharp metal into her flesh. With a brutal, upward jerk of his arm he sliced the snivelling bitch from cunt to collar bone. Blood splattered over his face, rich and warm, and her scream became a wet gurgling for a few seconds as horror and pain caused her eyes to bulge. He savored the sweetness of her life fading as her skin sagged and revealed her mangled insides. "Nighty night, Bitch."

* * *

"Shit!" Will circled around again and peered through the dense cornfield for any sign of Lori. Way to go, way to fucking go, Will! You could have handled that better. Maybe explained everything else before the whole 'Your dad murdered your mom' bit. Lead up to that. Not just drop the bombshell and expect her to stay there and listen to you like that's normal conversation material! Will felt like such an idiot. He searched for Lori and continued to mentally berate himself. He prayed he hadn't royally fucked everything up with Lori.

Lori was all he had left. His own parents had abandoned him - and Will couldn't understand why. Did his parents really believe he was crazy? How convincing was Lori's dad? Or was it his ties to the police? He obviously had some kind of powerful sway in Springwood. Enough to get away with murder - and Will was terrified that one day he'd use that against Lori. Will couldn't let that happen; no, he was _not _losing Lori again.

But first he had to find her and get her out of there.

A little ways off he thought he heard Mark and someone else talking. He didn't pay them much attention though, because he could tell the girl Mark was talking to wasn't Lori. Will called out her name again.

Nothing.

"Lori!" _Please, just answer me, please. _

Silence save for the muted sound of the party in the distance and Mark arguing with someone. Great; Will thought Mark was just going to stay in the van. It didn't matter. All that mattered was finding Lori and getting her to safety so he could explain things, make her believe him. He had to make her believe him. She had to believe him; she _had_ to.

Will pushed his way through the cornfield, looking for any signs of someone having run through before him. He was starting to lose hope that he'd ever find Lori when he heard soft moaning. Instantly he was rushing towards the sound. His stomach clenched; it sounded like Lori was in pain! Will pushed through until he found Lori lying crumpled on the ground. "Shit, Lori!" Will knelt down beside her, grimacing at the sight of fresh blood on the handle of the pitchfork where wood met rusted metal. He moved to pick Lori up when he noticed bloodstains on her shirt and jacket. He peeled her jacket off a bit to see what was wrong cuts started forming on her collar bone and chest.

"...the fuck?" Horror filled Will. He watched as more and more cuts appeared. Blood was all over his beautiful Lori, and she was flinched and squirming. His heart broke and fear gripped him as he shook her and lightly slapped her cheeks. "Lori! Lori, wake up!" But all she did was whimper and wince as another cut formed at the nape of her neck. "Fuck, wake up, Lori!" Will shook her more, slapped her harder.

Shit. Mark wasn't crazy after all. It wasn't just grief trying to find something to blame for his brother's suicide. He'd been right all along. Mark had been right about Freddy Krueger.

And now Lori was trapped in a nightmare with the bastard.

Will was panicking, crying, but despite all his efforts Lori remained unconscious. "Come on, Lori, don't let that monster win! Just wake up, that's all you've got to do! Just wake-"

Abruptly Lori jerked in his arms as her body was almost ripped in half from her abdomen to her neck. Blood spewed everywhere; Will was covered in it, Lori was drenched with red. Her eyes opened, briefly, rolling backwards before fluttering closed again as she sagged lifelessly in Will's arms. Her blood continued to bubble up and flow from her shredded torso, bits of torn up muscle and organs carried out in the thick liquid.

"Lori?"

Will numbly looked up from Lori's limp body to see Mark and Lori's other friend - Gibb, he thought was her name, or nickname - standing just a couple of feet away. He stared at them helplessly, in shock. "We...we need to get her to the hospital," Will weakly stated. His mind was shutting down. He couldn't accept it...Lori wasn't dead, she just wasn't!

Gibb looked on the verge of tears.

Mark was staring at Lori's wounds with abject terror.

It was Gibb that reacted first. She turned her red, glassy eyes on Will and shrieked, "What did you do to her?" The girl rushed over and shoved him back which caused Will to let go of Lori. "What the fuck did you do to her? _What did you do_?"

Will snapped. He had to be near Lori again, he had tog et her out of there. He shoved Gibb back violently. "How the fuck could you think I did this? I loved her, Gibb! I loved her! I didn't hurt her!" He tried to move towards Lori but Gibb got in the way. He glared at Lori's friend and struggled not to lash out at her physically. It wouldn't do him any favors, but damn it, he had to get to Lori!

Mark was approaching and worming his way between them. He put a hand on Gibb's shoulder and started pushing her back very slowly. "Look, I think you need to give Will the benefit of the doubt here. There's no weapon, Gibb. He couldn't have hid the weapon that fast, so let's just get out of here and you can get the police." For once, Mark was the voice of reason. Had the circumstances been different, Will might have been proud of his friend.

Gibb shook her head. She was starting to cry. "No. No, we aren't leaving her here. We can't just...fuck! FUCK!" Gibb yanked away from Mark and moved her hands to her head, holding her baseball cap down tightly.

Will choked back a sob and looked down at Lori. "She's right. We can't leave her here. It's not right."

"Look, Man, you and I have to get a move on. You know who did it, Will - look at her." Mark grabbed Will's shoulder and shook him. "We have to get to Westin and get some Hypnocil - that's the secret, Will! That's what kept us from dreaming, and we don't have it anymore. You and I can't go to the cops ourselves, either, man."

Will shrugged out of Mark's grasp. "I am not leaving her!" Abruptly there was a loud, wet, crunching sound. Like bones breaking, like something forcing its way through wet tissue. Will blinked. He noticed there was now blood on Mark's face, and his friend as well as Lori's friend were staring at him in shock. He felt...weird. Will looked down at his chest, where the sensation was strongest; something rusty and jagged was potruding from his body and blood spurted out around it.

"Oh, shit," Mark and Gibb whispered simultaneously.


	5. Alright, Sports Fans, Time for Round One

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the rights to any of the following: _Nightmare on Elm Street_, _Friday the 13th_, or _Freddy vs. Jason_, nor any of said franchises' characters. They are the property of New Line/Warner Bros., Paramount, Wes Craven, Sean S. Cunningham, and whoever else. I make no profit from this fanfiction, which is purely a work of fan love (and hate). Nor do I own _The Crow_, which is briefly referenced. Please do not sue me.

**Author's Note: **Located below chapter.

**WARNING:** Extreme violence, gore, language, stereotypes, blatant line from the movie usage.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Alright, Sports Fans, Time for Round One**

Mark didn't have a fucking clue who the giant that was yanking a rusty pole from Will's chest was - and he didn't really care to find out. There was nothing he could do for Will. He'd grieve when his life wasn't on the line. Grabbing the shell-shocked girl - Gibb, wasn't that what Will called her? - next to him, Mark took off for the clearing where the party was. He had to get to his brother's van and get himself - and Gibb, and anyone else who might need a lift - the hell out of dodge.

"What the fuck is that?" Gibb, now back to her senses, practically shrieked as she ran with Mark.

"How the fuck should I know?" Mark snapped back.

The girl glanced at him briefly with a look that read, 'If I wasn't scared shitless, I'd punch you in the gut.' "Because you're the one who's constantly spouting out information about psycho killers, maybe?"

"One! Just one, and that one is definitely not the same one, so let's just keep going, unless you want to go back and ask!" Mark looked back for a moment - what if Gibb didn't have to go back after all? What if that freak was almost on top of them? He couldn't see anything though. He faced foward again. He took a quick glance again - just to make sure.

A hulking shadow moved through rustling cornstalks.

Fuck.

"I think we should run faster!"

Gibb's eyes got wide and she glanced back for herself. Then started running even faster; it almost looked painful. "I think you're right!"

"Kia, I'm sure Gibb is okay. I mean, I know a lot's happened, but Gibb strikes me as the kind of girl who can take care of herself," Linderman tried to assure her while helping her look for the other girl. He was probably right, too - which kind of creeped her out, because did that mean he watched Lori's friends extra closely just to get to know Lori better?

But then this was Gibb, and Gibb was an in your face kind of girl.

"I know. But she's by herself, and that's not right. I shouldn't ditch her after everything that's gone down. I mean, what kind of friend would that make me?" Kia asked Linderman. "I really appreciate you helping me. I know I kind of rained on your parade, interrupting our mad dance session," she lightly teased in an attempt to make herself feel less guilty over how she'd ignored Gibb tonight and been a bitch to Linderman - again.

Linderman smiled - shyly and almost blushing, and normally Kia would find it pathetic, but tonight it was more pitiful. Like a little lovesick puppy instead of a randy poodle. "It's no problem. Besides, gives me something to do other than go around asking girls to dance with me and getting turned down before getting alcohol forced down my throat again," he admitted.

"So why do you bother coming?"

"I'm masochistic?" Linderman offered. "And hopeful that something good might happen, like it did tonight."

Kia grinned a little. "Is that a compliment, Linderman?"

"Maybe." Linderman was staring at the ground now, and it was - dare she admit it - cute. After a minute he looked back up at her and opened his mouth to say something else - but two people abruptly ran out from the corn field and barrelled into them.

The dog pile became tangled as the two on top frantically tried to get up, and the two underneath tried to see what the heck was going on. At some point the guy who'd tackled Kia to the ground managed to get off of her, untangle himself from the girl on top of Linderman, and stand. The girl on top of Linderman rolled off and jumped to her feet, while Kia winced and sat up. Beside her, Linderman still lay on the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

"Kia, Linderman, get up!" Gibb ran over to Kia and helped her friend up. Well, at least they'd found her - or she'd found them, whichever. But Kia got a good look at Gibb and just how freaked she looked. It was the night of Trey's death level freaked.

The guy was already running past them and shouted back, "You guys can ride with me if you hurry the fuck up!"

Linderman wobbly rose and stared at Gibb like she was a basketcase - but Kia knew better. Something was going on.

"Gibb, calm down -"

"Lori and Will are dead and if we don't move, we will be too, come on!" Gibb shrieked and grabbed Kia and Linderman and tugged before breaking off into a run after the other guy - the one who'd been with Will. Gibb screamed at the top of her lungs, "Everyone, run! You've gotta get out of here, there's a killer here!"

Kia and Linderman exchanged glances. Lori and Will were dead? What the fuck?

"Let's just go and ask questions later," Kia shakily stated before taking off after Gibb.

Linderman trailed behind in a daze.

The crowd watched and laughed - but it was nervous. Three people had been killed, and even if the police blamed it on Blake, there was the chance it hadn't been a murder-suicide case. What if there was a killer out there? But then what if Gibb had simply snapped after what she'd seen? Not to mention she was likely drunker than the football team put together.

Around that time, something came flying out of the corn field. There was a whipping noise and everyone looked over to see a long pole impale through Springwood High's star quarterback's head. The force it the impact broke his head off his body and the pole continued its path until it hit a tree, the quarterback's head still on it like a shiskabob.

Everyone screamed. The kids began to panic, and the party devolved into chaos.

Jason Voorhees emerged from the field moments later, machete drawn. Only a few feet away, a girl covered in blood from the quarterback screamed and turned to flee. Voorhees brought his machete down hard, cutting into her shoulder and down through her chest until there was a split from between neck and shoulder that went down through a breast. Blood sprayed out and sputtered from her mouth in her final gasp. Voorhees yanked his machete out and stepped over the girl's corpse.

A boy - probably the dead girl's boyfriend - shouted wordlessly and started looking around for a weapon. He spotted a discarded shovel underneath one of the beer tables. He grabbed it and charged Voorhees, swinging.

Effortlessly, Jason caught the shovel and yanked it away. The hysterical boy's eyes widened and he backed up, feet already moving to turn him around to run far, far away. Jason slammed the shovel through the boy's head. The rusted metal popping out through the kid's face, from ear to ear underneath the eyes.

Over where most of the cars were parked, Kia screamed and Linderman shrieked. Mark was already in the van and starting the engine, shouting at Gibb to grab her friends or leave them. Gibb yanked at Kia, who reached for Linderman. The three of them hopped into the van, Gibb riding shotgun while the other two scrambled into the back. Mark put the car in gear when suddenly someone jumped at the front.

"Dude, I need a ride!" Freeburg shouted - shrilly - in a panic. "There's a psycho hockey player out here!"

Numbly, Gibb muttered, "That's redundant."

Mark growled and waved at Freeburg to go to the side. "Hurry up!"

Freeburg didn't have to be told twice. He was to the side and in the van in a flash, slamming the door shut. He nodded at Kia and Linderman, shakily sitting down across from them. "Thanks, man."

Mark didn't acknowledge as he manuevered the van around the others car. Every time he hit or dinged one of them, he whispered under his breath, "Sorry, Bobby. I'll get her fixed up, I promise." Once out from the maze of vehicles, the Mystery Machine floored it out of there.

On another side of the clearing, Shack frantically searched around for a place to hide or a weapon to use. All around everyone was screaming or gurgling or falling down dead or stampeding into their cars. Running as fast as he could - which wasn't very fast...due to the crowds - Shack was nearing one of the trucks that already had a few passengers and was about to speed off. "Wait!" he shouted, waving his hands in the air. So focused on getting to the vehicle he didn't see the lower half of a girl's body in his path. Shack's foot caught on the girl's ankle and fell over. He rolled over and looked to see what he'd tripped on. Oh, shit. He recognized the tattoo on her calf.

Meekly, he whimpered, "Debbie?" before passing out.

His blackout didn't last long. It felt as though he'd fainted for only a second or two, and then he could hear an awful scraping noise in the distance. Sort of like fingernails on a chalkboard, only worse. Shack opened his eyes, and blinked rapidly. He rubbed his eyes and blinked again. Where the fuck was he? A factory of some kind? How did he get here? Shack stood up, feeling dizzy, and tried to figure out where he was.

What had happened at the party? Was that psycho gone? Had someone brought him here while he was passed out?

Shack didn't know anyone was that strong, even the jocks.

That scraping noise was louder; closer. Shack winced and covered his ears. "Hello? Could you maybe fucking cut that out? I have a bad enough headache as it is!"

"Aww," a deep voice grunted out.

Shack turned around, looking for whoever had said that. It was impossible to tell in the dimly lit factory - and why the fuck was it so red in there? Didn't help that the voice echoed off everything, yet sounded just as loud every time.

"What's the matter, piggy? Can't go 'Whee, whee, whee' all the way home?"

"Who said that? Who the fuck said that?" Shack was pissed. Yeah, he was a little chunky - but nobody fucking dared to call him a pig! Whoever said that was going to pay! "Where are you, you coward? Just who the fuck do you think you are?"

"The butcher," the guttural voice cackled from behind.

Shack whirled around to face the motherfucker. His eyes bulged at the sight of the dick - the fucker had no skin! He had no fucking skin! Shack took on step back, hands up. "I-I'm sorry, man, look, how about I just get out of here-"

The skinless man chuckled. "Sorry, piggy - Freddy's still hungry. Time for the slaughter!"

Suddenly a hook went up into Shack's back. The overweight teen screamed in agony as it tore through his flesh and spine. It yanked as the chain the hook connected to started to lift, bringing Shack with it. The hook slid up further, tearing through more flesh and destroying his spinal cord completely. Shack couldn't move of his own accord; he flopped and flailed as he swung around in the air.

Below, Freddy grinned. "Now that's how a piggy squeals!" Krueger hopped up onto a platform, raising his hand as he prepared to slice the fat prick's stomach open.

In the real world, Shack really was in the air, flailing around. Several kids stared briefly as their terror grew - one minute Shack was facedown on the ground while everyone else ran for their lives, the next he was lifted into the air, facing the ground with blood dripping down his sides.

The movement caught Voorhees' attention. Jason's head tilted; the teen was in the air. Flailing. With nothing holding him up. Jason walked over, thoroughly confused. The confusion only made Jason angrier. Voorhees viciously swiped his machete at the boy's bulging stomach.

Within Shack's dream, Krueger's blades were seconds away from impact. But suddenly Shack gurlged and his stomach split open. The contents spilled out and fell towards the ground, turning to smoke then fading completely before they even hit the ground. Shack himself shriveled up and disappeared from the dream world; his death stolen from Freddy.

In reality, Shack's innards did hit the ground - followed by Shack himself. His lifeless body fell onto his own guts with a wet, heavy plop, splattering more blood in all directions.

Jason stared for a moment as Shack went still. Satisfied that everything was right with this one, he turned and went after the other teenagers still shrieking and moving.

Back within the dream realm, Krueger kept staring at the bloody hook now swaying on its own. Someone had stolen his kill. Not just any someone - Jason fuckin' Voorhees! That giant, brainless fucktard had stolen Freddy's kill! Chances were, he was stealing a whole lot more than one. Freddy's bloodshot, milky blue eyes narrowed, face morphing into something more demonic as he roared.

Over half of Springwood High's current population continued to scatter and scream in a frenzied hysteria. Several cars were jammed into each other, and the teenagers from the stuck cars were frantically trying to get out and make a run for it.

Voorhees trodded towards the panicked teens. The first teenager he reached, a boy, didn't notice the giant approaching as he struggled to get his door open enough to let him squeeze out from the car sandwich he was trapped in. Jason raised his machete and brought it down - the boy looked up just in time for the machete to imbed from the crown of his skull to the cleft in his chin.

The large, black frame glasses the boy was wearing clattered to the ground, cut in two.

A girl screamed from inside the car and tried to escape on the other side from the back seat. Jason smashed the window and swiped at her, cutting her hip. The girl cried out in pain. She tried to scoot over further, out of Voorhees' reach, but the undead slasher reached in and yanked her over. As the girl choked out words that Jason didn't understand - "Please, please don't kill me!" - he slammed her head repeatedly on the broken, jagged glass that remained in the car door's window. Her words became garbled noises briefly, then her eyes went blank. The teen's body stilled and the noises stopped.

Jason moved on.

Amidst the stampede of frightened children, a Goth girl tripped and fell victim to other teens' trampling over her to get away. Jennifer cried out in pain before a foot stomped on her head and shoved her face into the earth. For an agonizing moment, everything went black and utterly silent. Then the pressure faded, and Jennifer rolled onto her back. She was home. How the...wait. It had been a dream! Of course.

Not unusual for Jennifer. Her dreams were almost always rather macabre. Though never so vivid.

Jennifer sighed and wiped some of the sleep from her eyes. It was still night, but she wasn't the least bit tired. She was burning up though; it felt like it was eighty degrees in her bedroom! Jennifer shoved the sheets down and took off her baggy Birthday Massacre t-shirt. It was too thick, she had to cool down. Why was it so hot? For a few minutes she tried to convince herself it wasn't really that hot, she was probably flushed from the nightmare. That didn't last very long. She got off the bed and walked towards the door - she was turning the blasted AC on!

It wasn't until she reached her door that she noticed it. The midnight blue paint that covered her walls was dripping. Hell, it was bubbling; boiling. Smoke started to eminate from her walls. Steam filled the room. Jennifer stared in horror. The room continued to heat up. Where a few minutes ago her skin had been damp with sweat, now she was soaking, her hair matting to her skin as the floor egan to glow red. She screamed in pain and jumped onto the bed.

A man suddenly pinned her there - a horribly burned man, in a red and green sweater. He was wearing a worn, brown fedora that did nothing to hide his hideous face.

_Like that guy Barbie was talking about! _Jennifer realized.

"Sorry I'm rushing through this, but I don't really feel like playing chance with Hockey Puck! But don't worry, Jennifer," the man's gruff voice grunted in her ear. One of his hands moved to her stomach, and Jennifer screamed - he was wearing a glove with fucking knives on it! The blades hovered over the scars she'd left during the year she'd cut herself. "If you feel the pain, that means you're alive - for now!" he cackled. The blades swiped deep, and Jennifer screamed louder.

On the ground in the corn field, Jennifer's body rolled over onto her back and jerked as four slashes appeared on her stomach. Another four criss-crossed with those, and another, and another, until her intestines were hanging out in severed chunks. Blood pooled in her mouth and leaked out from both corners of her mouth. Her lips were covered in red so dark it was almost black. As her final breath came, one bloody line went through each eye, right down the center - from above the eyebrow to almost level with her nose.

Jennifer had always loved _The Crow_.

"Was that the guy you and Lori were talking about at school? Freddy?" Kia asked Mark. She was still shaking.

"No. I don't know who that fucking guy was, but he's not Freddy Krueger! Krueger can only come after us in our nightmares."

"Well then screw this Krueger guy! I think the hockey mask killer counts as the bigger threat!" Linderman exclaimed shrilly.

Freeburg took a long drag from his blunt before muttering, "Dude, that goalie was pissed about something."

Gibb did nothing but sit in the passenger seat and shut out all the talking and the hysteria. She tried really hard not to break down crying. Again.

Lori was dead. Lori was fucking dead. Just like Trey. And Blake. Oh, and Blake's dad. They were all fucking dead! What the hell was going on?

Gibb pulled out a cigarette, light it up, and sucked in hard. She slowly exhaled, and tried to calm herself down. Her fist hit the dashboard, which earned her a glare from Mark - big fucking deal, and if he said anything, she was going to punch him, too. She didn't care if he was driving.

Lori was dead. And Will. He was dead too. Had that huge hulk killed Lori? Or Krueger? Yeah. Right. A boogeyman had killed Lori. Right. No, Goalie had probably done it, than waited for Will to find her so he could get the drop on the horrified boy. That made sense. Goalie probably killed Trey, too - and Blake. And Blake's dad.

Fuck. They were all dead.

Gibb brought her cigarette to her lips, inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and shut her eyes. Before she knew it she was shaking as sobs finally built up. "Fuck!" she screamed and smashed her fist against the dashboard again. "Lori's dead! She's fucking dead!"

Mark reached over and gripped her wrist. He kept his eyes on the road and steered with one hand - he was doing a pretty good job of remaining steady a calm, had to give him that. He glanced her way very briefly and then spoke. "Will's dead too. Look, I know how you feel, I do. But stop hitting my brother's van, please," he stated calmly - though there was an edge of irritation and stress to his voice. He let go however, not waiting until she answered him or tightening to try to force her to.

Gibb glanced over and noticed how bloodshot and glassy his eyes were. The arm he'd grabbed slowly moved over towards him and she laid her hand on his arm, below the shoulder. She sniffled, and for the moment tried not to act like a bitch. She wasn't even sure why. She didn't like the guy one bit. But he'd been there with her when she'd found Will holding Lori's corpse. He'd stood there with her and watched Will being brutally murdered. And then he'd grabbed her and gotten her out of there. She figured he deserved a break. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Mark's jaw clenched, and he hurriedly wiped at his eyes. He stared at the road ahead. "Me too."

In the back Kia, Linderman, and Freeburg were silent. Linderman was shellshocked, Freeburg was high, and Kia was trying not to breakdown.

Lori and Will were dead. So where the fuck did that leave them?

Lori and Will were only the tip of the iceberg when it came to dead teens. Bodies were stacking back at the clearing in the field. Voorhees was chopping teens down left and right - and any that were knocked out or fainted were finished off by Krueger.

One teen was crawling under some of the jammed cars. In one hand was a beer can and in the other a bong. The teen was half-convinced he was having a paranoid delusion brought on by the copious amount of maraujuana and beer currently in his system - but there was no way to know for certain, so he figured it was best to play it safe. He could see the giant's feet stomping around several yards away, hacking and slashing at the others trying to get away. Aaron figured it he remained under the vehicles until he reached the edge of them, he had a good chance of getting away.

Unfortunately for Aaron, he was high as a kite - and Fred Krueger was fucking pissed off and pulling every string he could to get to as many of his children as possible. Aaron didn't see the dream demon hovering in the space between a sports car and a truck. But the moment his head emerged from under the sports car, Krueger's boot came down. The force of it sent Aaron down onto his bong; right through the eye.

Krueger didn't take the time to savor the incredibly rushed kill. It wasn't very satisfiying, but better than nothing. He felt the tug of someone entering his realm and disappeared. Not that anyone else could have noticed.

Voorhees didn't like it when another teen was abruptly dangling in the air. He stomped over to where the teenager girl was screaming and flailing around as her face began to bleed. Voorhees didn't catch the fast movement of the girl's face being ripped off and flung away - but all of a sudden it hit his mask with a wet plop. The girl's blood acted as a weak adherent, glueing her skin to the hockey mask. Jason reached up and tore away the offending flesh. Growing even more rigid - and more enraged - he chopped up the girl's remains - now laying lifeless on the ground.

A few feet away another girl huddled behind a knocked over table, whimpering softly. She was too frightening to move. It didn't help that from where she was she could see her boyfriend's corpse, a funnel shoved through his forehead. Beer was pouring into the wound. The girl couldn't make herself look away, and her cries were becoming louder.

Jason slowly turned his head in the direction the noise was coming from.

Heavy footsteps grew louder - closer - but the girl didn't even notice.

The machete burst through the wood and pierced the girl's skull at the ear until the tip of the blade jutted out from the other one.

Behind Voorhees, a pair of tough guy jocks charged at the brute - a pitchfork in their hands. With one boy on either side, they put all their football strength into the lunge as they shoved the pitchfork towards Jason's midsection. The sharp metal pierced the zombie slasher's flesh, and the boys shouted triumphantly.

Voorhees stared down at the offending weapon, then the slowly quieting jocks. Not even bothering to remove the pitchfork first, Voorhees grabbed the two boys and slammed them into each other; over and over, until their fronts were bludgeoned open and the remains of their ribcages were tangled. He cocked his head and looked at the mess of the combined jocks. He promptly discarded the corpses and pulled the pitchfork out.

Bright, blinding light abruptly flashed in Jason's face. The rev of an engine became louder than the screams of the few remaining victims.

Jason turned toward a truck where another boy was shouting obscenities and vowing retribution - a word the boy only knew because his father got drunk too often and rambled about things like justice and vengeance and how neither one was wrong. Jason chucked the pitchfork at the windshield. It shattered the glass and impaled the boy before he could even get the truck in gear.

Headlights flashed on from another angle and a secone engine roared to life.

Raising his machete, Jason turned towards the car - right in time for the front to ram into him. Voorhees grabbed onto the car as the teenager continued to drive, flooring it and swerving to try and get rid of the zombie hanging on. Too busy panicking over Voorhees clinging to the car and hacking at the windshield, the kid never noticed he was heading out of the cornfield and straight for a tree near the farm house. The hood hit head on, temporarily pinning Jason against the large trunk.

Fortunately for Jason, Krueger had been right. Voorhees couldn't die.

Unfortunately for the teenager, he could. And he hadn't bothered with a seatbelt. The teen flew through the already cracked windshield.

The arm holding the machete was pinned with the machete pointed outward. Voorhees didn't even have to move for the blade to go right through the teenager's chest. The end of it shattered through the kid's spine, and he went limp before gasping out his last breath. Jason's head cocked to one side. It was so much better when they just went still.

"Oh, sure. You think you're such a hotshot, Wayne Deadzky. Springwood is my hockey arena, retard," he muttered, making lame jokes to try and feel a little better about the situation. Oh, sure, he had a nice, little buzz from all the fear Voorhees had produced, and the few kills he'd gotten in so far - but there were too many deaths that weren't his when they could have been. And if he didn't stop Voorhees soon, kids would soon be on short supply on Elm Street. He wasn't having any of that again.

Krueger stared at Voorhees as he set on the head of truck several feet away. He kept the passed out girl still while she whimpered and stared at him in terror. Krueger mostly ignored her - other than occasionally snipping a few strands of hair and hovering a razor tip over an eye, every so often cutting into the girl's breasts or thighs. He needed her alive to better watch the undead freak. As long as she didn't move or make a sound - in the real world - the brainless, bag of bones and puss fuck wouldn't even notice she wasn't dead yet. Krueger was going to keep her alive for a little while longer.

He had some studying to do.

* * *

**A/N:** I am SO sorry this took me so freaking long to get done! This was without a doubt the hardest chapter of any stories I've written the past couple of years. I'm out of shape when it comes to violence and killing, at least on the descriptive side - and Freddy and Jason are very difficult characters to write IC-ly. Feedback for this chapter would be extremely appreciated. Let me know how the kills are, how the characterization is (with the main players, anyway, I'm not too worried if some victims are cliches or stereotypes because, well - it's Freddy vs. Jason), anything. Feedback, concrit, suggestions, etc. - all welcome. I will do my best to update this story a lot sooner next time, and there will be a lot more focus on Gibb.


	6. Picasso of Elm Street, Bitches

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the rights to any of the following: _Nightmare on Elm Street_, _Friday the 13th_, or _Freddy vs. Jason_, nor any of said franchises' characters. They are the property of New Line/Warner Bros., Paramount, Wes Craven, Sean S. Cunningham, and whoever else. I make no profit from this fanfiction, which is purely a work of fan love (and hate). Nor do I own _The Crow_, which is briefly referenced. Please do not sue me.

**Author's Note: **Okay, guys, I am so sorry this took so freaking long! Unfortunately summer pretty much killed my chapter writing drive, but now that fall is here I've been working on this story and at long last, I finally have this chapter done! I want to thank everyone who has reviewed - I am SO grateful for each and every one, and all the feedback has really helped my confidence with this story. I'm sorry this chapter is a little on the shorter side, but I was dying to get it up so I decided to save the third scene for the next chapter. It ended up not flowing with this one anyway. (Also, this is un-beta'd, so if you notice any errors, let me know, I'll polish the chapter up :).)

**WARNINGS:** Language, gore, offensive remarks and insults, misogyny (hey, this is Freddy Krueger). Random Picasso references.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Picasso of Elm Street, Bitches**

It was quiet in the van as they waited for the police and the ambulances and the firetrucks to pass by. All the inside lights were off - no more funkadelic blue glow - and the van was parked in the back of one of the more spacious alleyways in town. Mark had slid down a little so he couldn't be seen without walking up to the van and peering in through the window; the others didn't bother, they just stayed still and kept their mouths shut.

Freeburg and Gibb had put their smokes out, too.

After a while they didn't see any more emergency vehicles flying by, and the sirens were growing faint. It was Linderman that finally spoke up.

"Take me home, please."

Gibb glanced at Mark before the both of them turned back to stare at Linderman. Gibb shook her head and - with more than a little bit of condescending sarcasm - explained, "Linderman, some freaking huge dude wearing a hockey mask and weilding a machete just hacked up probably a third of our high school's population. There's also, possibly, some dream demon boogeyman that can kill us in our sleep," Gibb added while ignoring Mark as he rolled his eyes and gave her an annoyed glare. "So right now, I think we should try and figure out _what the hell just fucking happened_!"

Kia swallowed and shrank back a little when Gibb yelled, before putting a hand over Linderman's. She gave it a slight squeeze and then in a shaky voice whispered, "Gibb, there's not much we can do. I know you're upset, I am too, but don't take it out on him."

Gibb sat back, pushed her cap off, and ran her hands through her hair until they hit her scrunchie. She hissed in frustration and yanked it out - which hurt, because several strands of hair went with it, but she didn't really give a damn - so she had something to throw when she turned around again. "We can't just go home and pretend nothing happened! We did that with Trey, and look what we woke up to!"

"Gibb's right, you guys," Mark piped up with a firm tone. "I don't know who that fucker was, but it wasn't Krueger. Which is bad, because no matter what you guys think, Krueger is very fucking real. You saw some of the stuff happening as we got out of there. People levitating. People getting cut when they weren't near roided up Goalie. It had to have been Krueger, snatching anyone who got knocked out or fainted."

Linderman banged his head on the back of the van and stared at Mark like the psycho freak Gibb used to think he was. "Listen to yourself, man! There's no such thing as a guy that can kill you in your sleep! I don't know what I saw - I barely saw anything because this Dungeons and Dragons mobile doesn't exactly have the best view!"

Mark started to scramble into the back, face red as he snarled incoherently - though Gibb was pretty certain she heard something along the lines of, "Stupid, sockcucking piece of fothermucking shit!"

"Whoa, calm down, buddy!" Freeburg moved over and started to push Mark back into his seat. "We're all just a little shaken, Dude, but just chill."

"You don't fucking get it!"

"No! We don't!" Kia finally snapped. "We're teenagers, and we don't believe in stupid shit like nightmare boogey monsters or hockey mask killers or even the simple fact that we can ever fucking die before graduation! So just shut up, because my best friend is dead, dozens more people that I know are dead, and it's just the tiniest bit overwhelming!"

Mark sighed and closed his eyes. He slumped back into his chair; he appeared weary, defeated, and a lot older than Gibb assumed he was.

Cautiously, Gibb reached over and put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly until he winced and looked at her. "I don't know what happened back there. I know you and Will were at an asylum, I know you look and act and twitch like a crazy person - and I know I saw some weird things for a brief moment as we were leaving the cornfield. Someone killed Trey, and Blake, and Blake's dad. Someone killed Lori and Will. I don't know if it was all the same person. But I've been thinking about this Krueger guy. He obviously is real somehow, because Lori found out about him from the cops, and parents have been reacting to his name, and, well, Springwood has always been a little on the Twin Peaks side of things."

Freeburg snorted in the back before lighting up another blunt. "Amen, sister."

"So whatever is happening, you know about Krueger, at least. So tell us about him. Tell us how we keep from getting killed by him."

Mark stared at her, lower jaw trembling and eyes glassy. "You can't. My brother, he'd figured more out about Krueger than I ever could - and Freddy still got to him."

"Then why aren't you dead yet?" Linderman questioned. He wisely refrained from trying to be sarcastic.

"I don't know," Mark replied. He cupped the back of his head with both hands and leaned forword until his forehead hit the steering wheel. "I really don't. But...I think it might have something to do with Westin. That's when I stopped remembering my dreams, after I was sent there."

Freeburg snickered and leaned back, eyes half closed. "Dude, maybe, maybe you were on some psychadelic pills. Only instead of taking you on a trip, you like, stopped dreaming, or some shit like that. Or maybe, maybe you did dream. Maybe all of this is one, big dream - and we're just part of your huge dream while you're strapped to a bed back at the whacko basket."

All four kids turned to stare at Freeburg.

The stoner shrugged. "Hey, just a thought." He then burst into a fit of laughter.

* * *

Studying sucked. Freddy had forgotten just how much he hated homework - or any kind of work that didn't involve stalking, mutilating, and killing people. Studying especially sucked, though, when the subject was so mindnumbingly boring!

Would it have killed the giant goalee with Down Syndrome to be a little creative? Maybe it would have, and that was why Jason was always so blunt and straight forward. The sheer brutality was nice, but there was no finesse - and once he was done, he just lumbered on searching for the next person to hack and slash with as much style as a butcher chopping meat.

That's all Voorhees was - a butcher. And Springwood's children deserved better. They deserved an artist. They deserved fucking Picasso, damn it! So, Freddy was going to give them fucking Picasso.

And Piglet was going to help. Piglet being the girl who had passed out and had convienently not come to yet.

The joys of underage drinking.

Freddy had quickly decided that he'd done all the studying that would prove helpful - which had lasted only about three to five minutes - and that his time using the girl could be better spent instilling more fear. So he'd dragged the girl through the cornfield and back towards Elm Street while Jason waddled off somewhere after some pothead or some horny, unmarried couple.

Piglet had been surprisingly well behaved for being dragged along by her ankle. She didn't scream once; probably because she was in such a state of shock and fear she couldn't do much else besides whimper and sniffle. Every so often she choked a little as bile and sobs built up. Otherwise, quiet as a mouse. She really was a good piglet.

Perfect for what Krueger had up his sleeve.

It wasn't long before Piglet was sliding down Elm Street on her back for any to see if the bothered to look out - not that anyone would, not in this neighborhood. Krueger had enough juice to manipulate the girl's dream world enough to effect her in the waking realm. Behind him, the piglet started to try to form words but they came out as incoherent babbling that turned to snot-filled hysterics.

That just would not do.

"What did I say about making noise, Piglet?" Krueger roared as he twisted around to hover over the girl. He relished the sight of her shrinking into herself and flinching, the way her body shuddered violently as she finally began to sob. He savored it for a moment before backhanding her with his non-gloved hand. He sneered when she yelped before going silent though her body still shook. "That's better. You want me to leave you alone?"

Piglet was quiet until she realized it wasn't a rhetorical question. Slowly, she nodded.

"You want me to be gone, for this to all be over?"

She nodded once more.

"Then keep your fucking mouth shut until I tell you what to say. And then it'll all be over," he added with a little shrug and patted her head with the four razors. "No more mean, ol' Freddy dragging you around."

Poor, little piglet was so scared she almost started crying in relief, eyes welling up again and smiling hopefully, gratefully - but she didn't say anything. No, Piglet was good and just nodded.

Krueger straightened and continued dragging her down the street. All the way to 1428. Home, sweet fucking Home. Daddy was back - and it was time to take out the garbage. He really hated when his house got a rodent problem.

Piglet whined a little when Freddy dropped her ankle and picked her up by her hair. He led her up the steps to the front door, while she could only move like a puppet being pulled by its strings.

"Ring the doorbell," Krueger instructed. Technically he could probably do it himself, but he kind of liked making the piglet do the deed. Why put forth the effort when making her was so much more fun?

"Th-this is Lori's house," the trembling girl said while raising her hand.

"Did I say it was time to talk yet, bitch?" Krueger snarled in her ear.

Piglet flinched and shook her head. Wisely, she didn't say a damn thing and just pushed the doorbell. The harsh scent of urine became very strong, and the piglet whimpered and tried to pull her shirt down to hide the wet stain as footsteps approached the door.

Freddy grinned when the door opened and a frantic Dr. Campbell opened the door. The confusion and horror in the good doctor's eyes was icing in Krueger's sweet satisfaction cake. "Good Piglet," Krueger stated as his arm shot forward until all four razors were potruding out from the back of Dr. Campbell's skull. An eyeball was stuck on one.

That apparently was all the girl needed to see to actually get a scream out. His stupid, broken doll finally let one out, an ear-piercing shriek as she tried to yank away from Krueger in abject horror.

Krueger kept his hold on her and turned her around to face the rest of the neighborhood. He didn't try to shut her up; he merely grinned as any kids left on Elm Street peeked out their windows, their doors, as the parents of Elm Street tried to protect their kids from what most be happening. He yanked his little piglet back to him and whispered in her ear, "Tell them Fred Krueger did it."

The shrieking girl choked and gasped for air as she struggled to calm herself enough to speak; she just wanted to live. She just wanted it to all be over. As Freddy held her up off her feet by her hair, she grimaced through the pain and shouted, "Fred Krueger did it!"

"And just like I promised," Krueger stuck his claws through the girl's neck and sliced down until they came out between her legs, slicing her middle up in four beautiful lines. He cackled as people shrieked, as sirens began wailing in the distance - as his work of art became messier and messier, the limp corpse swaying while her insides spilled out into a beautiful, sloppy pile on the ground. "It's all over now, Piglet." Freddy laughed and dropped the girl's body onto the rest of her gooey remains and returned to his world.

Now that, that was how you killed someone. That was Picasso.

And damn did Picasso feel good.


End file.
